Good

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!

The 2 year old SugarPlum has become a slightly angst-ridden backseat driver, which was a recent surprise to Poppie and Nana: "Whoa! We're going so past!" (fast)

While maneuvering the S-curve at a clip, "Oh no, we're gonna crash!"

On our way to see Horton Hears a Who, "We don't know how to get to the movie. We need a map. We can get one at Wal*Mart."

Nevertheless, she was a happy front seat passenger when Daddy took her for a spin in the go-cart. There's no go-cart trail, and we're still not sure what sort of trail he blazed when they motored out of sight, but some of us thought the little darlin' probably should have been coughing up some instructions to her driver:

"That was pun!" she exclaimed as she climbed out of the go-cart.

Indeed. Me thinks Daddy gave the little darlin' quite a ride.

And what muddy little urchin doesn't want to be carried?

She walked.

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord. And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him. ~ Colossians 3:16-17

Baby CowNot Wranglers

"Do you want Daddy to catch you a baby CowNot?"

" I'll get you one."
[Note the relaxed, follow-the-CowNot posture.]

"Okay, I can catch this one."
[It helps to set one's jaw.]

Meanwhile...
"SugarPlum, Uncle Son3 caught a CowNot for you."


"Here ya go."

"Thanks, Uncle Son3."


"Here, you can have it back now. Where's Daddy?"

Daddy's stalking baby CowNots.

It's been nearly 20 years since Daddy last wrangled CowNots.

He's not on his game yet today.

"Hey fellas, help a guy out here."


"Score!"


"I'm on my game now."


"Thanks, Daddy."

For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. ~ Isaiah 55:10-11

Chicken Fashions

Kandi and crew came to visit this week. The weather was unseasonably warm, so Kandi and I had sauntered onto the driveway island to sit a spell, while 7 children climbed trees, captured tadpoles (all of which we had to drippingly admire), and played hide-and-seek in the woods.

Instead of taking her seat on the island, Kandi slowed her pace and began bending ever-so-slightly at the waist as she walked beyond her chair. She kept moving, continued bending, and her head seemed to be approaching the ground (hey, I was just watching this peculiar behavior and wishing I was agile enough to assume such a posture) when she finally said, "That ... chicken ..... is wearing ......... tissue ... as.............. a scarf!"

I followed her unflinching gaze to the base of the lilac bushes. "Oh. That's not tissue. It's a Wal*Mart sack," I said. I'd noticed the adornment, myself, earlier in the day. And while the sight of a decorated chicken was novel, it wasn't nearly as amusing to me as having watched Kandi crouch lower and lower as she moved across the island or listening to the halting sentence, with a disbelieving intonation, coming forth from her as she crept along.

A couple of people have asked now if I'm not going to get the self-styled scarf off the chicken, and I can only suggest that anyone who believes they can catch the diva, is welcome to come strip her down. Personally, I think we should just let the girl have her fun.

And having food and raiment let us be therewith content. ~I Timothy 6:8

Goat Milk

[or Watermelon Jello: I was 8 or 9 years old when I begged and begged for watermelon flavored Jello, new to the shelves around that time. How could I know watermelon Jello wouldn't taste like watermelons? I could know by pestering long enough to receive some. I tasted it, said I didn't like it, then threw up in my bowl when I was told I had to eat it. Any sort of pineapple had the same effect on me.]

All the bulging CowNot udders around here brought me to the realization that my dream of fresh, free milk was at the door. Well, not exactly at the door, but in the pasture and available for me to coax into the refrigerator...if I had a mind and body and spirit and zeal and insanity to do so. Would it be worth it?

Would it be worth it? Hey, or hay, I wasn't born yesterday. I could pop the nearly $4 for a quart of goat milk from the store and at least be certain the stuff is palatable, before building a milking station, hauling warm water to the barn, squeezing flippy little pygmy CowNot parts an hour each day, sterilizing buckets and bottles, and so on and so on. Four dollars well spent, because...

That evening, I poured a glass of the liquid gold, and I told myself I was going to like it: I'm going to like this. I'm going to like this. I didn't want it to follow the full route of watermelon Jello.

My, oh my, oh my. That stuff tastes just like Willie smells. I'm one of those people who have a greater than average number of tastebuds and can detect flavor nuances in foods. Listen, I wasn't ruminating with the slightest, expectant thoughts of Willie, but he was in that milk, and it warn't no nuance!

Willie! Ewwwww! (I did swallow, and it didn't come back up. I've matured over the past 40+ years.)

Goat milk is good for a body. It's the best. If you can drink it and enjoy it (i.e. you've never smelled Willie), do so in great health. My hands and mouth, however, will be busied in pursuits other than wresting and drinking baa-juice from flippy little pygmy CowNot parts.

We used that weensy egg yesterday in a pre-flouring wash for fried chicken livers.

Mrs. Piecrust, fret not. I bought the livers at the store. All hens and hennots present and just being chickens.

As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby: if so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious. ~ I Peter 2:2, 3